Over the week since, we’ve been able to steal a few phone calls here and there and texts when calls weren’t a possibility, but I’ve had enough. I know he’s busy, and it had almost been a blessing since I’ve spent almost eighteen hours a day working nonstop on A Beautiful War. I never dreamed a painting that scale would only take a little over two weeks, but if I keep up my pace, I’ll be finished middle of next week. Just over a week before my show.

This afternoon, though, I hit my breaking point. All those calls and texts were officially not enough. I’m desperate to see him face-to-face. To feel his arms around me again and his lips against mine. Which is probably why I currently feel nothing but pent-up sexual frustration and eagerness for him to return my text … or plea, rather.

I bend forward to reach behind me to pull my phone from my back pocket and check it—again—to see if Nate had texted back, but not before seeing the message that I sent him an hour ago. My desperation for him had hit a peak so high I thought I needed to take a break with my vibrator.

Ember: Come over when you’re done at Dirty. I need you. No matter the time. Key is under the mat.

Would he think I was crazy? Probably not. Would he come? Probably. Would he wonder what I’m really asking for? Absolutely.

“Come on, Bam. Time to get your tail inside.” I laugh when he leaps again, this time chasing after a bug.

He turns, his tongue wagging, as he runs toward me.

When I open the back door, he charges into the house, and I hear him rushing into the kitchen seconds before he greedily starts lapping up his water.

Just when I shut and lock the back door, my phone vibrates in my hand, causing my heart to pick up speed. When I look and see Nikki’s name on the screen, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hey, you. White or red?” she oddly asks.

“Uh, white or red, what?”

“Wine, Ember. Really? We skip a few wine nights, and it’s like you forgot what we do once a week.”

“It’s Tuesday.” At least, I’m pretty sure it’s Tuesday. The downside to not having a conventional job is that time has no meaning most days.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Really?”

“I’m pretty sure. At least, that’s what my planner said this morning when I was checking my deadline for the last piece I need to get over to Annabelle at the gallery.”

“Well, son of a Bieber,” she complains. “Well, we might as well just have wine night anyway. I’m in desperate need of it since I’ve been two seconds away from killing Seth since last week.”

I laugh, not surprised that they’ve been fighting … they’re always fighting. And honestly, she isn’t the only one who is in the mood for a much-needed wine night with her best friend.

“How about get one of each and we will just play it by ear. I could use a good night of relaxing with a glass.”

“Or ten,” she mumbles.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I snicker. “I’ll start dinner in an hour, so come over whenever.”

“’Kay. Love ya, bye!”

“So did he ever text you back?” Nikki all but wheezes, her eyes wide as her mouth hangs open with shocked anticipation.

I had just finished catching her up on everything that’s going on between Nate and me. Needless to say, she’s been about to fall off the couch with every word I’ve spoken.

“Nothing, which is weird for him. Even when he’s been busy, he doesn’t usually take this long to respond to me.”

She nods her head but doesn’t speak.